Poem for the Blue Pills in my Cabinet, Locked

Dear Pills,
 
Please do not take offense
To my persistent proscription of your prescription.
You are simple sertraline hydrochloride soldiers
Following the doctor’s orders
To desolate the country of my cognizance,
To storm the castle where Depression waits—
A sad senile sapient so past his days,
His youth stolen by your fifty mages—
And bow him past perception.
 
I apologize for your amaranthine lack of acceptance,
But I remember when Depression
Was a king
Inside his castle,
Blade gleaming bright
With blood and light.
A melancholy, musing man,
Proud to sling a sword across his back.
I was his quiet erudite queen until you stole me away,
Forcing futile felicity unrequited
To slay me with its succession.
 
Dearest banal blue bliss bringers,
I have no interest in your promises to treat with tenderness
This “condition”
Of my position
In my mind.
Acquaint yourselves with your sealed sarcophagus:
 
I will find my happiness in other loves.